


Wait, what?

by thepeopleofvictory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 22:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12757656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeopleofvictory/pseuds/thepeopleofvictory
Summary: Some celebrity attends Clarke’s college and, well, frankly she doesn’t give a damn. Not when she’s already all enamoured with someone else.





	Wait, what?

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, I guess I wrote something? Idk why, and idk when it’ll be updated. Lolol who knows. 
> 
> Got inspired by all those other celebrity/college aus. More crack than anything tbh. It’s a mess. Kbye
> 
>  
> 
> [here's my tumblr @ravenrxyes if you wanna send hate mail or love letters or spam i accept anything lel](http://ravenrxyes.tumblr.com)

Clarke likes to pride herself in her extensive knowledge of the workings of the school. She goes to some of the college parties, she attends some of the meetings of the _whatever_ club that Octavia or Raven made her join, and news seem to travel to her somehow - so yes, Clarke thinks she’s pretty knowledgeable about _stuff_ (and people should not listen to Raven when she says Clarke is in her own little world of paint colours and medicine and cardiac arrests because Raven is a party animal who spends more time at concerts than at home.)

 

Clarke thinks she knows what’s happening outside her little “Clarke bubble”, but evidently she doesn’t know enough, because right now Octavia and Raven are talking her ears off, distracting her and smudging that gorgeous Viridian paint all over her clothes instead of where it belongs - the canvas.

 

“Who’s Hey-da?” Apparently that’s the mute button, and Clarke makes a mental note to say that question more often if it can shut the both of them up. And shut them up it does, as they stare gapingly at her. Clarke thinks she sees Octavia’s eye twitch, and she can very much hear Raven’s brace clank to the ground.

 

 

“Who’s Hey-da? _Who’s Heda_ you mean!?—“

 

“Of course Clarke wouldn’t know who Heda —“

 

“All the paint fumes —“

 

“Only the world’s most beautiful singer or model or overall angel she’s like plastered on every billboard and on that beer can—“

 

Clarke can feel her ears very literally slide off her head, and her eyes roll so hard that it hurts. “Okay so she’s _just a celebrity_. What about her?”

 

And maybe she should not have said “ _just_ a celebrity.” Raven and Octavia gape so hard, unwaveringly glaring at her, that they turn almost the shade of the Viridian stains on her sleeves. (It is a nice colour though, she should get a photo before it disappears.) Octavia‘s hand twitches twice before she clenches her fish and raises it - probably in an attempt to defend her idol.

 

But before she can get murdered by her (ex)best friends, Bellamy, bless his soul, finally decides to look up from his tome of a history book to save her.

 

“Heda’s coming to study in our college and they are huge fans.”

 

“Oh,” Clarke nods. That’s the answer she was looking for.

 

Now if only Raven or Octavia could have simplified their ramblings into that one sentence, peace could have came earlier and she could have continued her painting _earlier_.

 

“No like I seriously can’t believe she’s coming can you imagine breathing the same air—“ Raven takes to gripping onto Clarke’s arm painfully hard as she fangirls over this ‘Heda’ girl.

 

“I know right maybe she’s taking the same politics class—“ Octavia yells at Raven? her? someone?

 

  
Or maybe she will get no peace at all.

 

 

Clarke thinks she should block them all. Bellamy sighs audibly over the ruckus and flips a massive page of his tome and Clarke knows that he, too, doesn’t get the hype. She’ll just block Octavia and Raven then.

 

  
-

 

  
Clarke likes to spend her time outside of class in this little podium-ish thing tucked away in the corner of her college. It’s relatively clean, a small clearing surrounded by grass and trees and flowers. And even though she’s not a nature person, lately she’s been escaping to the place more often, because the best thing about that podium is that nobody is ever there, and finding silence has been relatively hard ever since the Heda girl has started school. There are hordes of fans planted around places where they think she will frequent, and even the dorm that she shares with her (ex)best friends is not safe.

 

Raven has built a “Heda-detector” that takes up half their dorm. It’s a metal monstrosity that sticks jarringly out of their tiny window and faces the grounds of the school. Raven claims it only sounds when it detects her beloved Heda, (“so we know when and where to find her!”) but from the way it beeps every other second, Clarke doesn’t know if she can trust the machine - unless Heda is really crossing the campus grounds every few seconds as some compulsive habit. 

 

Octavia and Raven still camp by the machine and spazz every single time the machines beeps though. That’s it. Clarke is on the very edge of cancelling them.

 

 

  
But the little clearing is great because it’s the one place she can enjoy her lunches and sketches without hearing about Heda. What kind of weird name is _Heda_ anyway, how does anyone put on a straight face saying that name, let alone fall in love with the person?

 

For a split second Clarke wonders what Heda looks like, and thinks to google her name over lunch at the clearing, but that’s forgotten when she reaches the clearing and sees only the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her life sitting right where she plans to sit - on the little bench that she’d spent time on cleaning and fluffing it up with a blanket and pillows she stole from the beanbag room (beanbag president be damned.) Clarke can’t even find it in her to be annoyed because, damn, that’s one fine jawline, and her fingers are itching for some charcoal and the way the hair shifts in the sun and-

 

Wait, someone found her small haven?

 

 

-

 

 

Clarke shakes her head to straighten her thoughts, but it only serves to jumble them more when the girl looks up and _ohdeargod_  she’s really elegant and pretty and Clarke’s already limited vocabulary gets even narrower when they make eye contact. She sees the girl stiffen though, and squints in confusion when the girl bolts from the seat in an attempt at fleeing. 

 

“Wait, no! You don’t have to leave!” Clarke just really wants to calm the girl down, (and maybe take another glance at the pretty girl’s eyes.) “I mean it’s my blanket, well, it kinda is my blanket because I stole it but that’s besides the point. You can still sit there I just want to eat my lunch and your book is still here and uhm oKay you’re inching away and I’m rambling to a stranger ohgodimsosorry-“ 

 

She half reaches for the book that has fallen to the ground to return it and also to hide her flushed face but a hand reaches the book first and Clarke whips her head up only to find her eyes watering from the pain instead because she’s not only managed to humiliate herself in front of a pretty stranger but she has also managed to injure said stranger. And herself. 

 

“Fuck...” her head hurts. Clarke blinks away the pain and tries to focus on the girl, who is also  knelt on the ground holding her head, and _laughing_? Oh shit maybe Clarke gave her a concussion. “Are you okay?” 

 

“It’s alright, I’m okay. You’re okay.” It’s curt and wow okay straight to the point much? 

 

The girl snorts. “It’s easier to be straight to the point.”

 

Oh fuck she said that out loud? 

 

“You are still saying things out loud,” the girl says.

 

Of course Clarke has to embarrass herself in front of pretty strangers, because her luck is that shit.

 

The girl blushes and stiffens and Clarke immediately slaps a hand over her mouth.

 

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Clarke’s mouth doesn’t know how to stop. “Since I’ve already humiliated myself let me just introduce myself I’m Clarke and can I just say I’m usually way more charming to strangers. What’s your name? 

 

The girl, still slightly flushed and still half knelt on the ground, stares straight at her, and Clarke doesn’t really know what to do because the stare is so intense it makes her fidget. 

 

“Did I say something wrong? Oh god, did you really get a concussion?” Clarke asks, her worry bubbling up again. 

 

“No I’m fine,” the girl replies, her hand up as if she’s ready to block Clarke from getting any closer. “Who am I?” The question is posed so incredulously that Clarke begins to think that the girl is lying and she really does have a concussion. 

 

Two years of med school and an entire lifetime of watching her mom patch people up, she can do this. Clarke flicks her eyes surreptitiously over the girls figure. The bruise on her forehead doesn’t seem overly severe, and she’s very evidently not vomiting or losing her vision, judging from the way she’s still staring straight into Clarke’s soul. Nope, probably not a concussion.

 

“Uhm...” Clarke doesn’t know what to do other than to cock her head in confusion and hope the girl doesn’t murder her. 

 

The silence drags on but finally the girl seems to have found the answer she was looking for simply by staring. “I’m Lexa.” There’s a quirk of her lips which Clarke is beginning to find very endearing, and she returns it with a huge smile of her own. 

 

“Well, _Lexa._ As I was saying before, you don’t have to leave. Even though you’re the one who stole my spot and blanket. Thief.” Even so, Clarge stumbles to her feet and offers a hand to Lexa, who takes it gratefully.

 

”Excuse me, Clarke,” and fuck, the way Lexa pronounces her name is to die for. “You’re the one who stole the blanket.”

 

”What proof do you have!” 

 

“You said so yourself, Clarke.” 

 

Lexa’s eyes are very green. You know what, Clarke doesn’t like arguing with pretty strangers. people. stranger. Lexa. 

 

Wait, what? 

 

Lexa’s chuckles and Clarke knows she just voiced her thoughts out loud again. 


End file.
